Dear Edward
by heartbutt
Summary: If she asks to die, offer her the pills in the silver container. And never, ever (can you see the repeating underlines Jacob? That's called emphasis), call her Isabella. It's always Bella. Even on your wedding day. Sincerely, Edward (allhuman. bellaxedward)
1. Prologue- Last Letter

Dear Jacob,

I apologize if the letters are too close in my words or the curves are not in the right places. I've written this note over and over again no less than a thousand times hoping I could perfect it and make it easier for you to read and understand.

I haven't written in a long time, as I'm sure she's told you. The pen feels odd in my hands, it's a strange weight that I haven't experienced since I was a young boy learning cursive for the first time. My curves weren't perfect then either.

I'd prefer you not share this note with her, Jacob. I, of course will not be watching as you unfold this piece of paper and scan these words so hastily written. For all I know, this could be her right now, reading the short guidelines I've written for you (If so, _Hello my dear, I hope you are well_).

But if it is you Jacob, if you would do me just one last favor, it would be this. This note and these words inside of it are for your eyes only. I wrote them just for you. It will be short and quick to the point and I promise you I will never send another note your way. Or hers.

Just remember these things about her, alright? Think of them as rule for a relationship.

I want you to be her knight. Protect her. Love her.

It's what she deserves.

Understand her like I learned to.

*_Always have on hand sterile thread and needles (you'll need multiple, they get lost often)._

_*She likes books. But do not buy her a book unless she's specifically given you the title. She's not a fan of recommendations unless she asks you personally for one herself._

_*Her body cannot handle too many strawberries at once. She's allergic. Hopefully she's told this to you already to prevent another scene with the ambulance, but if not here's a warning. She can have one or two at a time. But not right after another. _

_She favors them covered in chocolate. I've included the address of one specific cafe nearby. Give her one of these specifically when she is feeling down, she'll pick up in less than a minute._

_*If she does not pick up after eating said dessert, hold her close. Place her head to your heart. She calms at the sound of another's heartbeat. Especially when its someone she holds close._

_*Her preferred music is anything loud and fast. She likes to drown out anything and everything if she's upset or anxious. If you become close enough she'll include you and let you share her headphones. Don't ask to share, let her come to you._

_*Never ask her to put down her books. Wait until she's done. I pray you are a patient man. _

_*She likes it when you're honest. If you don't like a dress on her, tell her honestly but gently. She wants to be beautiful to you. And she wants to feel beautiful in her own skin._

_ *If she asks to die, offer her the pills in the silver container._

_*And never, _ever_ (can you see the repeating underlines Jacob? That's called _emphasis_) call her Isabella. It's always Bella. Even on your wedding day._

Sincerely,

Edward


	2. Chapter 2- Sterile Needles

_When we first met, you were crying. And I didn't stop. I should've, but I didn't._

_I still haven't forgiven myself for that mistake._

.

It was raining, because it always is when these type of things happen. I don't remember much of it, except for the sounds and the physical feelings. The rain was cold and heavy. Emmet had my wrist tightly in one of his big, beefy hands. He was my guide that day. It switched on and off between him and this other man whose name I never could remember. The other man, to put it simply, was strange. He lived for this kind of weather, describing to me the colors, the grays and blacks and browns of the streets and the passerby in great detail. He grew excited for this type of day, where he could tell me of scowls and shouts. Of those who were screaming, and the faces they made at their beepers and cellphones as plans feel through or a husband finally gave in and slept with another woman.

He absorbed the people's pain, grew stronger from it, whereas I felt nasty in his grasp. My thoughts would be dark and angry, _why me? why didn't I listen? _And the sound of the rifle going off again and again in my memory.

.

It would've been an understatement to say I was happy that it was Emmett's turn to babysit me that day, his term not mine.

"This way," he murmured, and I heard the soft movement of the umbrella as he leaned it further over my head. I made the movement to follow him, but didn't go very far. I stopped, because then I heard it, you. The noise was dim at first, the splash of your boots as you probably stumbled down the heavy stairs. And then there was your growl, "Fuck it," and the thump of the rest of your body as you settled on the bottom step, your head in your hands.

Your cries were quiet. Soft sobs, that stopped every so often, probably as some passerby gave you a quick glance. You were always so nervous, so anxious, about the world around you, how people perceived you and what they thought. But Bella, I never understood why you cared so much.

Maybe it was that which had drawn me to you. This bug of doubt in you, that I felt shouldn't be there. You were broken and it was my job to fix things. I'd never fixed a human before but as you had said, 'Fuck it,' I was going to give it a good try.

And then Emmet's hands were there again, tighter around my wrist, pulling me into a stagger after him. "Wait, wait, there's someone back there," I had tried, attempting to wrestle his death grip from my arms.

"I know. I saw."

"What do you mean 'you saw?'"

"She was somebody's slut. Was probably just kicked out by some wealthy customer."

"What are you talking about Emmett?" There were lots of puddles out that day. I fumbled through them like a duckling learning to swim for the first time. Teetering this way and that in the depth, I was already soaked up to the knees of my trousers, "How can you call some random woman a slut? Just because she was crying on the steps of some building?"

He stopped short and my body collided face-first into his back (which I might add, was rather solid like a brick wall). My feet braided over one another until I tripped backward. I felt myself falling, and then there were Emmett's hands again trying to catch my body. But I hit the cement, cold, hard, and frozen, my head colliding with what I suppose was the sidewalk's edge.

Emmett swore a long string over my head, "Jesus, Edward."

My mouth tasted of copper, but I continued the argument despite the blood filing my throat, "What would Rose have said if she heard you say that?" Rose was Emmett's wife of two years and the very definition of feminist.

"Sweet Jesus, your father's going to have my head if he see's you like this."

"_Emmett. _I'm fine. But _listen _to me, would you?"

"_Edward_, you're bleeding like a slice of beef you idiot."

We probably would've continued like that, arguing until I was white as death or had bled out completely, whichever came first, until I heard a shuffle of steps. And then there was a voice, and it was you, Bella.

"Ohmy, is he alright?"

"I'm fine," I tried again, but you and Emmett continued over my head as if I weren't even present.

"He split his head, I should take him to the ER, shouldn't I?"

"No, they won't get him in for at least an hour, trust me, I've been there." And I know Bella, you've been there before multiple times, many with me by your side, pressing toliet paper and tissues that have grown red to your forehead and your arms and legs. "It's just a flesh wound. Doesn't seem too deep. I have a needle and thread in my car. They're sterile," You're voice was so proud as you said that. I could picture you beaming, your cheeks flushed and eyes bright, "The ER gave it to me after my last visit, but there hasn't been any trouble so I haven't had a use for it. You're welcome to use it." I guess Emmett must have nodded, because you stood, calling over your shoulder, "Apply pressure to his head, I'll be right back.

"That's her isn't it?" I asked, as Emmett gingerly placed his elbow to my forehead. I gave a noise that he still hasn't let me forget, something between a whine and whimper. It was high-pitched and very unmanly according to Emmett.

"Okay, so she's a nice slut."

"Oh hush you. You're such a jerk."

"Oh look, she's coming back."

"Good, she's a nice lady, don't you be rude."

"Oh _shut_ up."

Your breath was hot in my face as you leaned in to examine the wound. The touch of your fingers was soft to my forehead, but they trembled, and I'll admit you being nervous was making me a tad nervous.

"I'm trained," you whispered softly, "Don't be scared." The needle hurt as it went in, but you had woven your free fingers in mine and when I clenched at the pain, you squeezed back and said, "Almost done. A couple more."

At that point we must've attracted a crowd. I could hear murmurs that weren't my own or Emmett's, talking amongst themselves. Every so often, Emmett would snarl, "Go on, there's no show here." And they would disperse, making comments that I could barely hear.

"How many more?" I asked, because the pain was becoming a little more bearable, but I didn't know how much longer I could stay beneath you. Your perfume was heavy and your voice so kind. And though I couldn't see your face, I wanted so badly to look you in the eyes and ask you out for a drink. Later, I would have Emmett describe every moment for me and tell me how you looked, and the expressions that crossed your face. It would take us three hours to dissect what could've only been a forty-five minute meeting.

"Two more, you can count with me if you'd like," you added, as if I were a child, you were about to give a shot.

I wanted to say it was alright. I didn't need to be comforted in such a way, but you had already begun, "One," you said drawing out the word as you finished the stitch.

"One," I repeated.

"Last one," and then there was the needle moving beneath my skin, pulling it back to were it was supposed to be, "Two. Edward, you've been an excellent patient."

I guess you two must've helped me to my feet then.

"Thank you," I had smiled, despite the blood that must've been caked around my face and forehead, "You're an excellent nurse."

You giggled, "You're welcome."

And then you stuck out your hand, "I'm Bella by the way, doctor in training."

As Emmett tapped my hand opposite hand and I swayed my arm, trying to meet yours, it was then, that you learned, I couldn't see.


End file.
